Day 9: Alabama - The Devil Fools with the Best-Laid Plan

So I admit it, I’m the killjoy on this trip, but in my defense, I have been made so by years of psychotic touring with Man in Gray (driving from NYC to Denver in two days, for instance). Not that I mind, of course, and there's something very satisfying about heroic hauls, but it is nice traveling with Miller – there are only two of us to coordinate and account for, and he has a richly developed sense of adventure, even on mundane stretches of the journey.



(You can't see it very clearly, but that's a hoof sticking out of the top of this dumptruck. It smelled real awesome too.)

As we drove through Nashville, stuck in traffic, Gabriel mentioned that he was hungry. I asked (not expecting an answer in the affirmative) if he wanted to find one of the places in Roadfood, but by the time I got that out of my mouth, he had already found a restaurant, and was punching the address into Maria (the GPS unit). Hooray! Plate lunch in Nashville!

Roadfooding used to be somewhat difficult, since it invariably involved trying to navigate through back roads in an unfamiliar place, often in a really residential part of town. Maria has changed all that. No matter how out of your way you’re going, she’ll get you there, and there’s never a need to call the place, ask directions, consult a map, or drive really slowly through town, pissing off the locals. Just punch it in and go.

We ended up at Swett’s, a cheery cafeteria near Fisk University that has been in operation since the fifties. We walked in and nearly capsized on account of the incredible smells of the place – real food, each item cooked expertly in its most luxurious incarnation. Gabriel got fried chicken with yams and turnip greens, and I got a vegetable plate with fried okra, mac and cheese and cabbage. We split everything, naturally. And was it good! Holy cow! With hot pepper vinegar on the side to boot!

We jumped back in the car, satiated to the brim with deliciousness, and continued south on I-65 to Birmingham. As we approached the city, the mild rain we’d been experiencing since Kentucky (really since DC, if I think about it) turned violent. It rained harder than I’d ever seen in my life, the skies blackened, and we turned on the weather report, remembering suddenly that Alabama is in the middle of “Tornado Alley.” The radio warned of “wall clouds” and two-and-a-half-inch hail, and told listeners to be on the lookout for any rotation in the sky. Good thing we were getting to town.

When we got to Java and Jams, it was still pouring nightmarishly. “Pouring” is the wrong word, actually. It was like someone had turned a firehose on the city, and water was hurling down with brute force. We got ourselves inside, got a cup of coffee from John, the affable proprietor, and sat and watched the rain.

Once it had subsided a little, we went to Homewood to meet our host for the evening, a fascinating guy named JP who had been in the Air Force, traveled throughout the world and become Birmingham’s “city ambassador” for CouchSurfing. We had twisted his arm to come with us to Dreamland, one of Alabama’s great barbecue institutions, for ribs and white bread (which, for years, were the only two things on the menu). It was, of course, a fantastic meal, set apart by the outlandishly good sauce – spicy, tangy and barely sweet, and as good on plain white sliced bread as on their magnificent meats. We were met at Dreamland by JP’s friend Deepak, and had lovely conversation and far too much food.



(The Dreamland appetizer - you couldn't get better food in all of Paris)



(Happy rib-eaters: Me, Miller, Deepak and JP)

Then Gabriel looked at the clock and realized we were supposed to be on stage, several miles away, in fifteen minutes. We paid, raced to the gig and set up, and just as we were about to play, JP, Deepak, JP’s girlfriend Michelle and their friend Crystal (a CouchSurfing “global ambassador”) walked in to watch the show. We played our sets and had a great time.

(Live MP3: Gabriel doing "For Your Love" - http://econo-graphics.com/superdupersecret/ForYourLoveBirm.mp3 )

Afterwards, we all went out to a birthday party at a very local bar in Birmingham to shoot pool, throw darts, drink, chat and finish off the evening in grand style. Crystal turned out to be a far better darter than I, and I accidentally bounced several darts off the board into the grim-looking trash can located inconveniently beneath the dartboard. I fished out as many as I could see, but left the ones that had disappeared into the murky recesses of Alabama bar garbage. Oh well.



(Michelle and Crystal)

We played some bar trivia, someone handed me a shot they called the “Three Wise Men,” who turned out to be Jim, Jack and Jose, and then we went back to JP’s to catch a little sleep.